Gallop

I'd like to write a verse,
To tell you all (O people!),
What kind of beast is a gallop,
Not a crocodile, not a hippopotamus, but specifically - a GALLOP!

When "down the roof of the world" you fly
On a spirited horse;
When that mountain trail
Leads to an unknown destination;
When only a sharp turn
Will save you from doom - that's a GALLOP!

When only the whistle of the wind is in your ears
And your heavy coat is soaked;
When rising in the stirrups
You rush to paradise at full speed;
When salty sweat on your forehead
Flows in streams into your mouth - that's a GALLOP!

And now - your horse is no longer yours,
But flies forward like an arrow;
The reins are dropped in the darkness,
And life is entrusted to fate!!
Pray! Even if you're a communist!
Be baptized! Even if you're a double atheist!
But just hold on! Hold on to the saddle -
Otherwise, death will come to you!

And the horse is not to blame at all,
That you're rushing straight to HELL!
For it was you who started the GALLOP,
So it's better to shoot yourself in the forehead at once!
When on a lathered horse
You gallop along a cliff,
And below is an abyss or a precipice,
You only dream - IF ONLY I WERE ALIVE!